


On Poison and Matters of the Heart

by Solemnly_Swear (Fitzsimmonsx)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is scared (but would never admit it), Fluff and Angst, Gaius saves the day, Happy Ending, M/M, Merlin is poisoned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fitzsimmonsx/pseuds/Solemnly_Swear
Summary: Merlin is inadvertently poisoned.(aka Merlin drinks the wrong thing and Arthur is terrified) (one-shot)





	On Poison and Matters of the Heart

Merlin is, for once, seated directly on Arthur’s right side at the long table. He can recognize a few of the dignitaries and nobles that have attended similar feasts at Camelot, but most of them are unfamiliar, and the feast itself is extremely boring.

Merlin receives yet another desperate, wide-eyed glance from Arthur, who is stuck in a conversation with the king of Dernas. The man is stout and slightly balding. His face seems to be set in an eternally solemn expression, his blinks slow and exhausted. His speech gives off a similar impression- the welcoming address at the beginning of the feast had been sluggish and unbearably lengthy. Merlin had almost dozed off, in fact, before Arthur had caught him with a sharp elbow in the ribs and mouthed “If I have to listen to this, so do you.”

Now Arthur is in need of help, and Merlin takes great satisfaction in forking another bite of food into his mouth and chewing slowly. Arthur’s pleading glances get more frequent and despairing, but Merlin simply chews his food, trying to keep the smug grin off his face.

When there’s a break in the conversation and the king stops to take a drink of wine from his goblet, Arthur leans over to Merlin and whispers “You’re dismissed, Merlin. You’re the worst manservant I’ve ever had.”

Merlin, who hears this at least two times every day, continues chewing complacently, then swallows. “At least I don’t have to listen to the king talk about agriculture,” Merlin mutters under his breath, glancing at where the king is still bringing the goblet to his mouth. “How can one person be that slow?”

“Clearly you’ve never seen yourself polishing armor,” Arthur mutters back, glancing at his untouched food. “Do you think it’s safe to eat now?”

“Looks like he’ll be occupied for at least another five minutes,” Merlin replies. And then, in an indignant hiss, “And I am not slow at polishing armor! Let’s see you try-“

“The king, polishing armor? Better to leave it to a manservant.” A pause. “Or should I bring George back? He seemed to properly enjoy serving me.”

Merlin, who has just taken another bite of food, starts choking slightly and grabs blindly at a goblet of water for relief, taking a soothing gulp. After the choking has subsided, he simply says “He joked about _brass_.”

Arthur hides his smile behind his napkin and then groans when the king finally places his goblet on the table and turns back to Arthur.

“Good luck,” Merlin says, not even trying to hide the grin stretching over his face.

Arthur sends Merlin a resentful glare and turns back to the king, expression morphing into one of polite interest.

Arthur really isn’t horrible at this, Merlin thinks. It’s clear that diplomacy and politics were more of Uther’s forte, whereas Arthur is most comfortable on the battlefield or with his knights. But Arthur is learning, and Merlin is proud of him for how far he’s come.

They’ve attended this feast for pure diplomacy- Dernas is a very small kingdom, with an almost nonexistent military force. But it’s essential to the textile trade, and Uther had fostered this alliance for decades. The speech and the feast itself are mere formalities, meant to strengthen the appearance of their alliance, but Arthur has attended with minimal complaint and is even suffering his way through this. Merlin feels the tightness in his chest that comes with imagining Arthur standing on his own as the king of Camelot- it’s a mixture of pride, sadness, and something else that Merlin can’t place.

A thud echoes through the hall, interrupting Merlin’s thoughts. The source is to Merlin’s left- he turns from his food and is shocked to see the king of Dernas’s prone body sprawled on the floor. Arthur is already on his feet and then on the floor, next to the body. He shakes the man, checks for a pulse, and Merlin is reminded of Uther all over again. The helplessness, the feeling of horror and guilt. Merlin pulls himself out of it when he realizes Arthur is remembering the same thing- there is a wild, desperate look in his eyes as he shakes the king’s body.

Merlin puts a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and then pulls him away as the royal physician kneels at the king’s side.

There is a pause, a tangible silence across the giant hall, and then the physician’s announcement.

“Dead,” he says, voice ringing out. “The king is dead.”

Then chaos breaks loose, and Arthur turns to Merlin, his eyes clear again.

“We need to leave,” Merlin says, and Arthur nods, taking hold of his arm.

“Follow me. We have to get back to Camelot.”

Merlin’s heart is racing and he feels weak, stumbling as Arthur drags him along.

“Keep up, Merlin,” Arthur throws back to him. “We need to make it out of here before the crowd.”

Merlin tries his best, but his body isn’t keeping up. He’s slowing them down, he can tell, and by the time they’re out of the castle and making their way towards the woods, he can’t put it off any longer.

“Arthur,” Merlin says.

“Quickly, we have to get back,” Arthur tells him, eyes straight ahead.

“Arthur,” Merlin says, more urgently this time.

Something in Merlin’s tone forces Arthur to look back- he turns around, clearly irritated, but stops at the look on Merlin’s face.

“I think,” Merlin starts, swallowing. “I think the king was poisoned.”

“That makes sense, but-“

“And I think it was supposed to be a double assassination.”

“What are you trying to say, Merlin?” Arthur asks, frustrated. “I didn’t even touch my goblet.What does it matter if-“

“I did,” Merlin says, a sick feeling in his stomach. “I was choking, and I took a sip.”

The confusion in Arthur’s eyes gives way to understanding. “Merlin,” he says, voice hoarse. “Are you-“

“I think I’ve been poisoned.”

The world tilts precariously around Merlin, and when it comes to rights again, Arthur is holding him.

“You’re going to be fine,” Arthur says. It’s his king voice, brooking no argument, and Merlin feels too weak to speak. So he nods into Arthur’s shoulder, instead.

“I’m going to have to carry you, but we can make it back by early morning tomorrow. Gaius will fix it,” he finishes grimly. “Everything will be alright.”

The world goes blurry and soft around Merlin, and the last thing he feels is Arthur shifting his grip on Merlin and starting towards the woods.

 

The next time Merlin becomes conscious, the silence hits him. Sounds of the woods surround him, the chirping of birds and the noises of the trees, but nothing from Arthur.

Merlin is leaned against a tree, covered in some leaves, and when he dizzily looks around, Arthur is nowhere to be seen.

A new sound breaks through the silence- the sounds of a fight make themselves known. Merlin can’t see any of it, but he hears the familiar clashing of metal and grunts of pain. The noises stop after a few minutes of Merlin fighting hard to stay conscious, and then there is silence again.

“Arthur!” he calls out weakly. He tries a searching spell, but is greeted with an emptiness inside of him- the poison has stripped away his magic along with his strength.

“Arthur,” he tries again, “are you there?”

This time, there is an answering noise and a familiar figure enters the clearing.

“Merlin,” Arthur says with relief. “How are you feeling?”

“Poisoned,” Merlin replies. Neither of them laugh at the poor attempt at humor- it falls flat between them with a heaviness that Merlin isn’t ready to face. “What were those noises?”

“Ran into some bandits,” Arthur says. He glances over Merlin, then seems to remember he was speaking. “It’s why we stopped here. We have to get going now, though.”

Merlin sees blood on Arthur’s clothing as he gets closer. “Not mine,” Arthur says, following Merlin’s gaze. He brushes the leaves off of Merlin and grabs hold of him, slinging him over his shoulder as if he were a piece of luggage.

Merlin considers saying something,but then everything goes blurry again and he doesn’t have the willpower to stop it.

The day passes in the same way, interspersed with moments of consciousness and the feeling of Arthur’s warmth against him. By the time it gets darker, Merlin is aware of a dreadful cold in his bones. Delirious, he yearns for any warmth- he mutters the spell for fire, but nothing happens. Arthur gives no indication of having heard it; he simply pauses for a moment, shifts Merlin slightly, and then continues on.

“I’m cold,” Merlin mutters, and Arthur sighs.

“I know,” he says. “You’re doing great, Merlin. We’ll be back soon and you can get a hot bath.”

Merlin shivers, unable to imagine it, and burrows closer into Arthur’s back. “If I-“

“You’re not going to die. You’re going to be fine,” Arthur says harshly.

Merlin is silent. “I was going to say,” he finally mumbles. “If I get back, I’ll never complain about polishing your armor again.”

“Oh,” comes the reply, softly. Then, “Don’t make promises you won’t keep, Merlin.”

 

The sound of Gaius wakes Merlin up. The clink of glass and the smell of herbs. Merlin takes a deep, shaky breath of the familiar air and opens his eyes.

“-be this one. I’ve read about it before, but never seen the effects in person. How much did you say he had?” Gaius’s voice, lowered.

“Just a sip.” Arthur.

“And how much did the king have?”

“I would say half the goblet.” A pause. “Do you have the antidote? We need to hurry.”

“I do. It should be on that shelf, near the back. It’s a light blue. The vial is narrow-”

Shattering noises, glass being thrown across the room, then silence. “Found it.”

Merlin lets his eyes close again, his eyelids getting heavier.

He feels, as if from a distance, he mouth being forced open and the cold stream of potion.

“Did it work?”

“It should. If he doesn’t wake up soon-“

“Merlin. Merlin, do you hear me? You clotpole, if you don’t get up-“

Merlin opens his eyes, the blurriness of the room slowly forming an image, and finds Arthur next to him. His hair is a mess, there’s dirt and mud smeared on his cheek, but he’s the most beautiful thing Merlin has ever seen. The sentiment seems to be returned on Arthur’s side- his shoulders relax at the sight of Merlin with his eyes open, and he lets out a shaky breath of relief.

“That’s-“ Merlin starts, mustering up the energy that he can feel slowly returning to his body. “That’s my word.”

Arthur doesn’t even dignify him with a reply, just grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him into a tight, warm hug.

“Welcome back, Merlin,” Arthur says with a smile in his voice. Merlin hears Gaius, hears other voices from the doorway, but he just sinks into the hug.

“I’m glad to be back.”


End file.
